


Hellfire and Holy Water

by levele3



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: Hellfire and Holy Water- A nice and accurate account of events after the end of Good Omens. Or, how an Angel and a Demon finally come to terms with the fact they love each other.





	Hellfire and Holy Water

Aziraphale slipped into the seat beside Crowley when they got on the bus.

Cautiously he took a loose hold of the demon’s hand in his own.

They survived the end of the world for Heaven’s sake, surely, he could indulge, just this once.

They road in mutual easy silence for some time before Aziraphale suddenly broke it. His fingers of his other hand fidgeting in his lap.

“Pity about the Bentley,” Aziraphale said, in a regretful tone. He knew how much Crowley loved that car, as much as a demon could love anything he supposed.

Crowley gave a nonchalant shrug and slouched in his seat, bringing his knees up to rest against the seat back in front of him. It was going to be a long bus ride back to London. He wondered if the mess on the M25 was cleared up yet.   

“It was only a car,” he said, giving the angel a sideways look. His snake eyes peeking just over the brim of his glasses. _At Least it wasn't you_ , he thought.

Crowley let his head loll, coming to rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

Azriphale gave a slight jump at the sudden reciprocation of contact but otherwise didn’t comment.   

Crowley sniffed, “you smell different” he mumbled, “new cologne?” 

 Aziraphale opened his mouth and then closed it, several times, before defeated, he just shook his head in disbelief. Crowley could really be so dense sometimes.

After another stretch of silence, he remembered something from earlier in the day. A question that tingled in the back of his mind. Something Crowley had said.

 “Crowley?”

“Umm?” The demon hummed sleepily. His eyes were closed.

“When you said you lost a, _a friend_ earlier, well, you didn’t mean _me_ , did you?” Aziraphale asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. His voice holding the frailest note of hope.

Crowley’s response was to nuzzle his face further into Aziraphale’s shoulder, and loosely wrap his arm around Aziraphale’s. The one that was attached to the hand that still held the demon’s other hand. He tried to not make a point of looking at that.

“Stupid angel” Crowley whispered sleepily, his warm breath tickling Aziraphale’s neck.

“Of course, silly me,” Aziraphale said softly.

If Crowley picked up on the hint of disappointment in his voice the demon didn’t say anything. The only response he got was the sound of soft even breathing from Crowley. Well it had been a long day.

Gently Aziraphale let his head rest on top of Crowley’s and the two slept the whole way home.  

Well most of the way home.

About twenty minutes before the bus reached it’s terminal Aziraphale and Crowley awoke and formed a plan.

***

“So it’s decided then” Aziraphale said, going back over their plan once more.  

They were standing in the middle of the bus depot parking lot.

“You’ll go to my bookshop looking like me, and I’ll check in on your flat, looking like you. We will meet in St. James’ later this morning.”

“Exactly” Crowley agreed, “you ready?” he asked holding out his hand.  

Sometime, around midnight, the world had reset itself, any hint of what Saturday had brought had vanished. The angel and demon had returned to London just as a new day was dawning. The sky a brilliant painting of pinks and oranges. 

“Ready,” agreed Aziraphale, hesitantly. 

When the two clasped hands they both felt a tingling sensation race over their corporeal forms and when the two dropped each other’s hands they each looked like the other.   

“You’re sure I wont, I dunno, _blow up_ or something, if they drag me off to _Upstairs_?” Crowley asked, Aziraphale’s voice sounds weird forming his words, making him sound even more worried than he really is.

“Thinking of backing out already?” Azriaphale asks, Crowley’s voice makes it sound like a snide remark instead of genuine concern.  “This was _your_ idea, after all.”

“ _Our_ idea,” Crowley interjects.

At the look of worry on his face Aziraphale tried to be gentler, “honestly I don’t know what will happen, at this point we just have to assume they will come for us and there is only one way they can destroy each of us, our one true ultimate weaknesses.”

“Hellfire and Holy Water,” Crowley nods in understanding.  

Aziraphale opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something more, but the words don’t come.  

They had known each other for 6000 years, give or take a day, and they knew each other well enough that they could pass for one another. Aziraphale knew all of Crowley’s little ticks and inflections. Crowley could mimic Aziraphale’s mannerisms to a T. If they were right about what their respective sides had in store for them this was the only way they might even have the smallest, slimmest chance of surviving it.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale walked away with his body, with only the mildest regret. Fully dressed though he was in the angel’s usual attire, he felt utterly naked without his sunglasses.

 “Damn I look good,” he said before turning around and making his way to the bookshop.  

There could be spies everywhere. Already the forces of light and dark could be seeking them out. They might not even make it to the rendezvous spot.  

Aziraphale walked away somewhat unsteadily, how did Crowley manage with these stilts-for-legs? Oh yes, he _sauntered_. Aziraphale threw his hips into the walking and suddenly it was a little bit easier.  

He remembered his thought from yesterday, after he had been discorporated, if only he could have possessed Crowley. How much easier it would have been. Aziraphale caught sight of his reflection in the window of a shop. Crowley’s face with all its lovely angles looked back at him.

***

Crowley stood staring for a moment up at the bookshop.  He still couldn’t quite believe it was there. The sight of the burning building had caused him so much pain the day before. Grief and anguish like he had never known. He really had gone native. The very thought of loosing Aziraphale forever had crippled him. The thought of loosing his best friend, even if Aziraphale wouldn’t admit it. He shivered.

But today was a new day. The first day of the rest of their lives in fact. And the bookshop was standing where it had always stood, no sign of fire damage.

Crowley entered the shop to do a quick inventory. The building felt empty without the angel here, and a little bit of what he had felt the day before, when he had thought he lost everything, crept upon him. Looking around Crowley noticed something that hadn’t been there before.

“Those are new,” he remarked, upon catching sight of a shelf of Richmal Crompton books. First editions, of course. A gift from Adam, no doubt. Aziraphale would be pleased as punch. 

***

Although Aziraphale had only been there a handful of times, compared to how often Crowley frequented the bookshop, everything seemed present and accounted for. Which looking back wasn’t much. 

Aziraphale gave the plants a quick misting and an encouraging pep talk. He also deposited a pile of dirty clothes he found in the office, in the bin. Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the rags. 

The flat was so sparse. Aziraphale remembered Crowley’s offer from the night before. To stay with him, here. He couldn’t imagine. The flat didn’t feel _loved,_ exactly, but neither was it the opposite. Neutral was the air it gave off.   

Outside sat the Bentley, in pristine condition, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile at that. Crowley would be so pleased. For a moment a wild thought took hold of him, that he should drive the Bentley to the park. He thought the look on Crowley’s face might almost be worth it. But in the end he couldn’t do it, and at the last moment raised his arm to hail a cab.

***

“I want an Ice Lolly” Aziraphale whined, it came out beseechingly in Crowley’s voice.   

Crowley tried to hiss in annoyance, but it just didn’t sound or feel right in Aziraphale’s mouth.

“Well you can’t have an Ice Lolly, it’ll look suspicious, I never eat when you do, remember?” Crowley’s argument sounding almost reasonable coming from Aziraphale’s tone.

“Then we shall both have to get one, I’ll pay!” Aziraphale turned, causing Crowley’s suit jacket to fly out behind him and set off at a brisk pace for the nearest refreshment stand.

“Oi, not with my money!” Crowley protested trying to keep up with the now longer strides of the angel.  

It was a little difficult with the extra gut he was not used to carrying.

Crowley turned up his nose when Aziraphale handed him a rather large ice cream but tried to make a show of eating it, just in case they were being watched.   

That was when they saw Death, most defiantly a bad omen. And then someone gabbed Crowley and he was being dragged away, gagged and handcuffed, and not in a fun way. The angels had him, their plan had worked. 

Aziraphale turned, watching as his best friend was being dragged away, a hiss working its way up his throat. He wanted to shout Crowley’s name, let him know it would all be alright. He tried to run after him but something struck him in the knee.

 The band of demons brought him to the ground. He hit it, hard. 

“Ooh, bad luck, dear?” Hastur snarled at him, and there was _a lot_ of malice in that snarl. 

“It’s not a problem,” Aziraphale replied, his head swimming with pain, damn these corporeal forms, “it’s tickety-boo.”

 And then he blacked out.


End file.
